What To Feel
by Pandorama
Summary: Luka and Abby in the wake of Milošević's death. Slightly political, get over it. Oneshot.


_**I was disappointed that TPTB never did anything with the death of Slobodan Milosevic back in March of 2006 - he was the power behind, among other things, the Siege of Vukovar in which Luka lost his family, so it could have been a very poignant moment. Thus, I've decided to fill in that particular blank. As per the show, Abby is about four months pregnant. The actual date would have been the morning of March 12, 2006. That said, much thanks to my favorite non-Goran Croat, Nina. Volim te, my little Hrvatski.**_

**What to Feel**

There was no logical explanation as to why she awoke so early that morning, a cold, bitter March morning, the sky still dark at six in the morning as she slid out of bed, an uneasy feeling settling over her to find him absent. It could only be that odd sixth sense, that feeling as though something wasn't right. As though she needed to get up and find the thing nagging at her and correct it. The air was still, the morning oddly quiet save for low buzzing from the living room. Still bleary-eyed, still in the sweats she'd slept in, the shuffled slowly to the living room, one hand instinctively covering the newly rounded bump on her abdomen. His form came into focus in the dark, huddled on the couch, the television turned low. "Luka?"

He turned slightly, only now revealing where the sense had come from. She'd never seen him cry before, but now, tears streamed down his face. She moved instinctively to him, settling next to him, enveloping him in an embrace, cradling him like a child. His shoulders shook as she held him tightly, a choked explanation not registering at first. "I don't…I don't know what to feel. I don't know what to feel."

She turned to the television, tuned to an early morning program on CNN. A familiar picture flashed on the screen, as she watched the words scroll across the bottom of the screen. _Milosevic found dead in his cell in The Hague._ Her grasp on him tightened, stroking his head gently, whispering murmured reassurances.

"He killed them. He killed my family." The words came out strained and out of character. His head was buried in the crook of her neck, weakened, defeated as he crumbled into her. "And now he's dead and I don't know what to feel."

The pain, the agony in his voice was heart wrenching. She rocked him gently as his face contorted into a sob, shaking in her arms. Her lips next to his ear whispered to him, voice soft, comforting. "Shh…shh…" It was so terribly out of character for him to show such emotion, she was close to tears herself. Her fingers raked through his hair gently. "You don't have to know. You don't have to know, that's all right. You're allowed."

His arms slid firmly around her as though holding here there with him, for fear she too would be taken. "I don't know if I'm angry, or sad, or relieved, anything. He killed my family and I don't know what to feel."

"Love. You loved them and you still do and that's all that matters." She pressed her lips to his forehead, caressing his cheek. "That's all."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, him in her arms, tears dampening her sweatshirt, a few her own, mostly his. Finally he drew back and allowed her to brush the moisture from his face. "Thank you." It came out barely a whisper.

She nodded. "Any time you want to talk about it, or –"

"No." He cut her off. "I mean thank you for you. For this." He laid a hand over her belly, making soft circles with his palm. "I didn't think I'd get this chance at being happy again."

Her face melted into a smile, words she was too afraid to say echoing in her mind, wanting to be set free. Instead, she reached up to kiss him, tender, intimate, all the things she wanted to say implied. He folded her into his arms, pulling her close, onto his lap, her head on his shoulder. She turned off the television, wrapping her arms around him again. "You know you can tell me about it. About them. Anything." She looked up, eyes wide with sincerity. "You know that, right?"

"Yes." He swallowed hard. "I know that."

"I'm glad." She laid her head back onto his shoulder, sighing softly, fingers toying with the soft, dark hair at the nape of his neck.

A smile, still tinged with sadness, settled over his face. "I love you."

It wasn't the first time he'd thought it, but up until now he'd held it back. This, though, her simple gesture, comforting words, offer to talk, all of it…he needed to say it now. She felt a surprising flutter in the pit of her stomach, one that had nothing to do with the baby. Warmth spread over her at his statement, and she closed her eyes as she replied. "I love you, too."


End file.
